“Oh God,” she moans. “Move, Nicholas. I want to feel you. All of you. Now.”

And those words are now my second favorite.

Keeping my weight on my arms, I pull back and thrust in slowly, with a guttural groan. Because it feels just that fucking fantastic. Indescribable. Olivia’s arms wind around my neck and my hands slide beneath her shoulder blades, cradling her head as I ride her in even, steady strokes. Our panting breaths mingle, we kiss and taste, and the pleasure rises, tightens with every movement.

Until it peaks.

My hips move without thought, grinding and pounding hard now, rushing to catch the orgasm that’s barreling down on us both. And then my mind goes white, blank—suspended in that perfect moment of deep, carnal pleasure. Olivia’s there with me. She bites my shoulder but I don’t feel it. All I feel is where we’re connected, where I’m powerfully pulsing inside her, giving everything I have, over and over again.

Olivia lies in the crook of my arm, pretty and perfect, gazing at me as her hand runs down my chest, tracing the tic-tac-toe of my abdomen with her fingertips, then sliding back up to start all over again.

“You’re beautiful when you come.” I brush my knuckle against the rosy apple of her smooth cheek. “And after.”

She bats her lashes up at me. “I try.”

As my hand retreats, she catches my wrist, eyeing the bracelets that chronically encircle it. “You wore these the other night, too. Do they have any special meaning?”

I slip off the teakwood circle and pass it to her for a closer look. Her finger traces the etchings. “This was my father’s,” I tell her. “He built houses in Africa one summer when he was a teenager. One of the village women gave it to him—a blessing, she called it—for protection. He wore it almost all the time.” My throat narrows. “After the funeral, our butler, Fergus, gave it to me. He said he found it on my father’s dresser—didn’t know why he hadn’t taken it with him when they left for New York. I don’t wear it because of superstition…I just like having something close to me that was close to him.”

Olivia snuggles tighter against me and slips the bracelet back over my hand.

“And this one?” She fingers the platinum links circling the same wrist.

“It’s Henry’s.” An easy smile comes to my lips. “Our mother had it made for him when he was eight and she was sure ID bracelets were coming back into style.” I chuckle at the memory and Olivia lets out a small laugh. “He hated it, but he pretended to like it for her sake.” And then I’m blinking against the burning in my eyes. “After they were gone, Henry never took it off. He had the links added when he outgrew it. He couldn’t bring it with him to training, so he asked me to keep it for him until he came home.”

Olivia presses a comforting kiss to my shoulder, and we lie against each other in relaxed silence for a few minutes.

But then she rolls over onto her stomach, her long, wavy hair scattering across my torso. “Hey, you know what else I am after I come?”

“What?”

“Thirsty.”

I rub my eye and stifle a yawn. “Yes, I could go for a bottle of water too. There’s a mini fridge just over there.” I point to the far side of the room. “How about you go get us some?”

She burrows under the covers—her arms and legs wrapping like she’s a koala and I’m her tree.

“But it’s so cold. What do you have the temperature set to—arctic?”

“I like it cold. I tend to run on the hot side.” I reach between us, tweaking her peaked, pink nipple. “And there are other benefits.”

“You should go get the water—it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

I roll on top of her, nudging her legs open with my hips, settling comfortably between them, my cock already starting to harden again. “But there are no gentlemen here.” My teeth scrape her lovely neck—gaining a whole new appreciation of vampirism. “And I want to watch you scamper across the floor.” I shift my weight and cup one full breast. “See all these gorgeous parts jiggling along the way.”

Olivia scoffs. “Perv.”

She doesn’t know the half of it.

“I have an idea,” she suggests. “Let’s play a game—a contest. Whoever tells the most embarrassing story gets to stay in the warm bed. Loser has to freeze their ‘parts’ off and get the water.”

I shake my head. “Oh, sweets, you’ve just ensured that you’re going to lose—no one has more embarrassing stories than I do.”

I let Olivia roll us to the side, pushing me off her. She cocks her arm, resting her head in her hand. “We’ll see about that.”

“Ladies first—let’s hear it.”

Slight doubt shadows her features. “I hope it doesn’t bother you…It has to do with…oral sex.”

“Mmm, one of my favorite topics—tell me more.”

And she’s already blushing.

“All right, so, the first time I ever gave a…blow job…I didn’t really know what it was. And since it’s called a ‘blow’ job, I thought you were supposed to—”

She puffs her cheeks out, like she’s trying to blow up an uncooperative balloon.

I fall back onto the pillow, howling. “Christ, you’re lucky you didn’t give the poor lad an aneurism!”

Her cheeks deepen to crimson and she pinches my side as punishment.

“Your turn.”